


i live in big spaces (so i'm left alone in big spaces)

by russets



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russets/pseuds/russets
Summary: Dee huffs a soft laugh. Dennis doesn't mind, even though it's at his expense. It's a ceasefire, this conversation.Maybe, with a little time and a little work, it might grow into an armistice.





	i live in big spaces (so i'm left alone in big spaces)

**Author's Note:**

> a conversation, somewhere down the line 
> 
> enjoy

"Dee?" Dennis resits the urge to double take at the name on the screen. "Why are you calling me?" 

"Hello to you too, asshole," Dee says, her voice tinny over the shitty line. She sounds pissed. 

"Did you actually want something or am I hanging up," Dennis says. He carefully doesn't make it a question. He doesn't have time for Dee's shrill whining right now. He's a busy man, he has shit to do. 

Never mind that it's ten o'clock on a Monday and Mandy has the day off and Brian Jr. is with her and all Dennis has been doing since he woke up is counting the cracks on the ceiling of his crappy apartment's tiny bedroom and thinking about all of the jobs he isn't qualified to do. 

"Mac showed up at my door at ass o'clock in the morning. Hammered as ever loving shit, of course. He says you sent him away." 

Of course Mac went to Dee's. Of fucking course. Charlie would've just gotten him high, Frank wouldn't have given a shit if he could even remember who Mac was, but Dee? Dee is the only one with the balls to actually call him. 

Fuck Mac. Fuck them all, and the way they all know each other too well. 

"So? Why should I give a shit? Did you kick him out?" Dennis doesn't mean to ask, but it slips out before he can stop it. 

Dennis hopes Dee didn't make Mac leave. 

Dennis hopes someone was kind to him. 

"No you sack of shit, of course I didn't, God. The guy's pathetic without you around, he probably would've gone and drowned himself or something and I don't need that shit on my conscience," Dee says, and for some reason she sounds even more annoyed. 

"Well, great, he didn't choke on his own vomit, good to know," Dennis says, and it tastes like relief where the words stick in his throat. "Well done Dee, you did a good thing for once in your miserable life. Did you want me to congratulate you some more or can I go now? Because I've got shit to do."

"Shut up, Dennis. I'm being serious here. You need to come back and deal with this," Dee snaps. 

She isn't kidding, Dennis can tell from her voice. It's the same voice she used to use when they were five and she was demanding that he give her back her Barbies or she'd tell mom. 

Barbara would never once side with Dee, and they both knew it was a hollow threat, but Dennis would give her the doll back anyway. 

They were kinder, back then. 

Their mother's lack of love wasn't a weapon just yet. 

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. I'm not leaving North Dakota, so thanks but no thanks Dee, lovely to talk to you," Dennis says breezily. 

"Don't be an ass. You need to come back. There are people here who need you." 

It's dirty pool and Dennis knows it. Dee's done fighting clean. It was a game they used to play, back when they were young and had each other's back. It was them against the world. When it came to picking sides, it was never really a choice. 

Things are different now, though. 

Dennis never had a kid before, and there hadn't been years of cruel words hurled like javelins at each other from across a gulf neither then had noticed opening until it was too wide to bridge Dennis loves his son more than he's ever loved anything in his life, more than he even knew was possible. 

Their old, broken sibling bond could never compare to that. 

"I have to stay here, don't you see? I can't leave Brian Jr. and Mandy needs me and I just. I just can't," Dennis says firmly, a door slamming shut. He hopes that his tone will shut her up, knows that nothing will. 

Dee snorts. "Oh please. Like shit does Mandy need you around, you know perfectly well that she was doing just fine on her own. And what difference does it make to the kid where you are anyway? He's like two, he won't remember anything."

"I'm not leaving, Dee. There are things I need to do here."

"What are you doing out there, anyway? I bet you're just loitering around pissing off Mandy and going fucking nuts from the lack of women dumb enough to bang you," Dee snickers down the line and Dennis stays silent. 

It's strikes a little too close to home and he knows Dee can tell. 

"God, are you not going to say anything? North Dakota has made you so boring."

"I have nothing else to say. I'm not leaving my son, Dee. I'm not going to be that sort of father."

"Oh my god, please tell me you're not that much of an idiot," Dee says, exasperated. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," Dennis snaps. He can feel the anger churning deep in his stomach now, the kind of genuine anger he hasn't felt in years. 

It was a shock when that came back, almost as much of a shock as realising how false that old stale rage that used to bubble up so quickly when someone didn't meet his eyes or walked too close to his car truly had been. 

"Dennis," Dee says, and her voice is soft, like she's talking to some dumb child. "You love that kid, right?" 

"Of course I do."

"And you've told him that?" 

"Of course I have, you bitch. All the goddamn time."

"Then he's already doing better than any of us ever did." Dee pauses, considering. "Well, except maybe Charlie, but he doesn't count. No one tried to abort your kid. I'm not saying you're ever going to be a perfect father, but he has Mandy who's honestly a goddamn delight, and you're a miles better dad than Frank ever was."

"That's not exactly a difficult level of parenthood to achieve. Frank barely counted as a father even when we thought he was our dad, let alone a decent one."

Dee laughs down the line, soft and only a little bitter. "Fair point. What sort of dad pulls that shit with the Christmas presents? Or any of the rest of it, Jesus Christ, that man was a monster. Anyway, shut up, I'm getting away from the point. My point was, he's going to be ok."

"You think?" His voice cracked and he flushed red, glad she couldn't see him. 

"Oh, Dennis. You're not going to mess him up. He's going to grow up just fine, whether you're there all the time or not." 

"What if he hates me for it?" Dennis knows he sounds pathetic, but he's just so tired of the North Dakota snow and the over friendly neighbours and of not being around the people he spent every goddamn day with for the last thirty years of his life. 

Dee sighs. Dennis thinks she was trying for exasperated but she just sounds fond, fond in a way that she hasn't for years. 

"I have such a idiot for a brother. Den, he's not going to hate you for being happy. You deserve a chance at that, at least." 

Dennis snorts. "Me? Let's be honest Dee, the only thing I deserve I bamboo under my fingernails and that's the goddamn truth. I mean, look at me, look at all of us, look at how we were. None of us deserve shit." 

"Maybe. Maybe you're right. I won't lie to you, you're a terrible person. We all are. Or at least we were. But look, aren't we all trying now?" 

It's Dee's voice's turn to crack and Dennis tries to take the same vicious satisfaction in that that he would have in the past but he can't. It's all dried up. 

"That's got to count for something, Dennis. Things have changed. That has to count for something." 

They sit in silence together for a long while, the phone line crackling softly between them. Dennis watches the snow flutter down outside the window. 

He used to think that it fell like a torrent, stiflingly fast and dense but now, sitting in the most comfortable silence he's shared with his sister since they were small, he thinks that maybe he was wrong. Maybe the snow is softer than he first thought. 

The flakes tumble down, down, over and over. 

"Do you think he'll forgive me?" 

"Who, Brian? I thought we went over that." Dee's voice is quiet, like maybe she'd been watching something impossibly soft too. 

"No. Not Brian." 

"Ah." Dee huffs a soft laugh. Dennis doesn't mind, even though it's at his expense. It's a ceasefire, this conversation. 

Maybe, with a little time and a little work, it might grow into an armistice. 

"Dennis, he flew out to North Dakota to see you. He's been working a second job to make enough for rent so he wouldn't have to find another roommate because Frank was being a dick and wouldn't your share. The thought of moving in with another guy scares him shitless because it's not you. The guy is as miserable without you as you are without him. He just hides it better. He'll forgive you." 

"And you don't think I'll ruin him? More than I already have, I mean." 

"You're finally admitting it then? You're going to tell him?" Dee sounds eager, which is always dangerous but Dennis hums an affirmative anyway. 

He's not going to say the words out loud until he has to, until he can say them to the right person. 

"Mac's a tough guy. It'll take more than you to ruin him. Don't tell him I said that." 

"I won't," he promises, and it feels a little like a peace offering. Quiet settles over them again. 

"Dee?" Dennis says tentatively, hesitant to let the words too far out, just in case saying them out loud mangles them the same way it has countless things in the past. 

"Yeah Dennis?" 

"I think I'm coming home."

**Author's Note:**

> there's still essay to go so i wrote this, of course. 
> 
> dennis has been trying to manage his bpd in this and i hope it came across a little bit 
> 
> title is from landscape with black coats in snow, by, as per usual, richard siken


End file.
